


They move forward

by NotMyOrthonym



Series: Whitestone, Dead Hearts [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cassandra needs friends, the people we leave behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyOrthonym/pseuds/NotMyOrthonym
Summary: Cassandra spends a lot of time watching Percy leave. Allura knows what that's like.





	1. Chapter 1

She honestly doesn’t know what to do about Percy. It was less than two days ago that he was _dead_ , and then he just pops his head into her room to say, oh, by the way, I’m off to fight an ancient white dragon, don’t wait up. 

It’s like she’s an afterthought to him. Like he barely thinks of her at all. 

She follows behind him to the Sun Tree and she isn’t sure if the fact that he doesn’t notice is a testament to her skill or how wrecked he still is from the whole _dying thing_. Either way, it doesn’t bode well for him. 

Every time she watches him leave, she thinks about that first time he left her. Every time she sees a flash of his fleeing back, of the forest, and she feels the sharp sting of the arrows, and she remembers him never looking back as she _died_. She tries not to blame him, but she still feels that sting. She wonders how he remembers that day. 

She watches him pass through the Sun Tree and she feels that sting of abandonment. Every time he leaves she prepares herself a little more for him never returning.

“It’s horrible to watch them leave, isn’t it?” She jumps at the soft voice behind her, whirling around to see the long blond braids and blue robes of the wizard from Emon, Allura. 

“What?” is all she can say, rather dumbly.

“I’ve spent the past fifteen years watching her leave,” Allura says, gesturing towards the Sun Tree where Vox Machina and Lady Kima have just disappeared through. “And it’s always horrible, to some degree. But,” she turns warm eyes on the young woman standing before her, too young for the grey streaks in her hair, “she always returns.”

Cassandra tries to keep her face carefully blank as she glances over this woman. She’s been sort of working with Allura for a significant amount of time now, but it had been a professional relationship. Allura would study the dark little ball the Briarwoods had summoned and report back to Cassandra and Keeper Yennen on what she and others had found. She was part of the war council as well, but Cassandra had had a hard time reading the woman behind the professional demeanor she presented in these meetings. She’d gotten a few more glimpses whenever Allura was around Vox Machina, as she relaxed more around them, but she still knew very little of the arcanist. Cassandra notes the gentle smile she now wears, Allura’s warm gaze, but she also sees the tension in the woman’s shoulders, the twinge of worry in the set of her eyebrows. Cassandra’s better at reading facial expressions than most, she’s had to be. 

“Did she tell you where they were going?” Cassandra asks, wondering if the woman really grasps the dire nature of the situation.

Allura nods, her braids bouncing slightly as she does. “To fight Vorugal, the ancient white dragon.”

“And you’re not concerned?” Cassandra pushes.

“I am very concerned. But you must have faith in them.” Allura stands strong against her.

Cassandra fights the need to roll her eyes and huff. “My brother returned dead from their last escapade. You’ll forgive my lack of faith.” She turns and begins to walk back to the castle. 

Allura falls into step next to her. “That must have been very difficult for you.” She knew already, Cassandra notes. “I’m sorry.”

Cassandra fights the bitter smile. “I didn’t even see him dead. How much could it have affected me?” They had performed the resurrection ritual without her. It had worked, but it had been done _without her_.

“One doesn’t have to see it to know it happened,” Allura says, eyes focused on Cassandra’s face. Cassandra has a solid poker face, but Allura is watching very closely. “One doesn’t have to see it to be worried. To fear that he won’t return one day. It clearly hurts you to see him leave.”

“Leaving is what he’s best at,” Cassandra can’t help but say. “I don’t expect him to return. It’s a gift every time he does.” She’s doing her best at damage control, but she’s not exactly at her best right now. She hears it ring false, and she knows Allura noticed it as well. 

Allura can’t hide her shock at that, at the bitterness in this young woman’s voice. She can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, what Cassandra has been through. She knows that Whitestone was captured by Lord and Lady Briarwood for quite some time, and she knows that Cassandra resided here during that time. Percy, clearly, did not. The relationship between the de Rolo siblings confuses her. When they are together, she can see the love between them. She knows they care deeply about each other. But there’s this tension she sees sometimes, the tension she sees in Cassandra’s face now. Cassandra’s not a child, but she’s still young, years younger than both Allura and Percy. Her hair is prematurely grey, as is Percy’s, and she carries herself like a much older person. There’s a reserve there that reminds Allura of much older politicians in Emon. There are lines around her eyes that make her look far older than she is. There is some deep pain that she carries that Allura can only see hints of. 

Allura’s known many young adventurers in her time. She’s met politicians young and old. She knows the traumas the world can inflict, she knows how they can change people. She, too, carries the weight of people who never returned. She’s lost many friends, as recently as yesterday when Scanlan informed her of Tiberius’s fate. There’s something more to this weight Cassandra carries, and Allura feels the need to reach out to this woman too young for her burdens. Emon is gone. Whitestone is all many have left, and those helping in the fight against these dragons can use all the friends they can get. 

“There have been times when Kima almost didn’t return,” she says, finally. “Vox Machina actually met her because I asked them to find her when she’d been missing for – for too long. I tell myself – every time she leaves, I remind myself that she has always come back to me. She always finds her way back, one way or another.” Allura smiles, but it is small and sad and she finds herself blinking back moisture in her eyes. “However, there is always that – that fear. You find yourself preparing for it. For the day they won’t return. For the day you are left alone.”

“He always leaves.” She doesn’t know why she says it. Maybe because this is the first time in a long time that someone has wanted to talk to her about how she _feels_. Percy informed her of what had happened, of how he came to – to die, but he never asked her if she was alright. He never asked her how she felt about nearly losing her last remaining family member. So maybe that’s why she can’t stop herself from being honest with this woman. “He always leaves and I always stay.”

“I know what it’s like to always be the one left behind,” Allura says, still with that same sad smile. “It is not an easy burden to bear.”

“Do you hate her for it?” Cassandra asks, carefully not watching Allura’s reaction.

Allura’s not surprised at the question. Perhaps she would have been, earlier in the conversation, but she’s seeing that there is much to the de Rolo siblings she still does not quite understand. “Sometimes. Sometimes I wish she would just stay put. I wish that we could just – just exist together, in the same place, without her feeling that need to leave. And sometimes she leaves because there is a greater purpose calling her away. And sometimes she leaves just because it would kill her to sit still any longer. But I knew that at the start of all of this. She’s not the kind of person who likes to be bound to a single place.”

“But you still hate her for it, sometimes?” She needs clarification on that point in particular.

“You always hate people sometimes. Even the ones you love the most. Perhaps especially the ones you love the most.” Allura watches as Cassandra nods slowly. She’s dropped a layer of defense, Allura notes. There’s still plenty left up, but one barrier has gone down. She’s one step closer to understanding, she thinks. “Do you hate him for leaving?”

There’s a deeper trauma to that question that Allura knows. Than many know, really. Yes. She hates him for leaving. She loves him when he returns, but every time he leaves, she feels that sting. She feels the arrows. She feels the betrayal. She’s trying to heal, all on her own, but every time she feels that pain again. And she knows he has to go, and she knows he has every intention of returning, but still. Still. Still that pain. She doesn’t hate that he has to go, she doesn’t hate the things that make him leave, she hates _him_. She hates that he chooses to leave her again and again. 

But she loves him when he returns.

“Sometimes,” she says, locking the deeper pain away. After all, she can’t tell anyone about that. The only people left in the city now who know even slightly what her true connection to the Briarwoods was is her and Keeper Yennen, and it’s not exactly like she could talk to him about it all. And she can’t tell anyone. Whitestone could crumble if the wrong people knew her darkest secret.

Allura watches the dark look flit across Cassandra’s face. There’s something more going on here, but she won’t push this. This is – there is something she’s missing here, and she knows when to back off. The two walk the rest of the way to the castle in quiet, companionable silence. Cassandra pauses on the hill outside of the gates, turning back to look down at the town. Allura stops next to her and follows her gaze.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Cassandra asks, her voice small, standing on the hill of the castle, gazing down at the town below. The Sun Tree is clearly visible, the last rays of the setting sun catching its leaves, giving it almost a halo effect. 

“I want to,” Allura says, watching the Sun Tree as well. “I hope they are.”

“Me too,” Cassandra says, after a long, quiet moment. “Me too.”

And then, together, they turn and head back into the castle.


	2. It's hard to know they're out there

Allura’s returning from her latest visit with Gilmore when she spots Cassandra and Keeper Yennen heading into the town. Yennen invites her along; they’re apparently going to get reports on the rebuilding that’s happening across Whitestone. It’ll be a long trek around the city, but Allura decides a walk would be good for her. 

Allura’s been distracted, so perhaps she hasn’t exactly been her usual charming self with the leaders of this city. It’s been a stressful time. She knows a bit about Yennen, some from some of Scanlan’s potentially exaggerated stories about the Whitestone Revolution. Even in those stories, Yennen had taken a back seat to Pike’s glory, but still. She’d liked what she’d heard. And she knows that Kima likes the man. She’d said things about holy men who aren’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and do the dirty work as well. That, she knew, was something that Kima admired more than almost anything. The man could apparently also put up enough a fight to kick up a few more notches in Kima’s esteem. And Allura trusted Kima’s judgement, to an extent. 

And, of course, Cassandra de Rolo remains something of a mystery to Allura. And unsolved mysteries have always bothered Allura.

The three maintain idle chatter as they head into the city proper, mostly Yennen and Allura, but Cassandra contributed here and there. They talked about how the city looked better even from just afar, how you could see the life returning to it. Yennen speaks of the devastation he had seen in peoples’ faces while the Briarwoods ruled, the mist that hung in the air, the dark effects of their corruption. Allura speaks of Emon after Vox Machina freed Uriel from the force that had corrupted his family. 

“You can see people again,” Cassandra says, a strange, delicate warmth in her voice. 

“What?” Allura asks. A strange look comes over Yennen’s face as he watches Cassandra walk slightly ahead of them

Cassandra turns her head to look back at the other two over her shoulder. “From the castle. You can see people walking on the streets again. There was a long time where you couldn’t see that.”

“You would watch the streets?” Yennen asks, his voice carefully controlled. Allura glances between the two. She’s missing something important.

“Sometimes,” Cassandra shrugs and turns, continuing on ahead of them. 

Yennen’s eyes remain on her for some time, watching her back ahead of them. When he turns his attention back towards Allura, he meets a single raised eyebrow. “I hope you don’t expect me to pretend I didn’t notice that,” Allura says, mildly. 

Yennen smiles at that. “Cassandra resided in the castle during much of the Briarwoods’ reign.”

“With the Briarwoods?” Allura asks, glancing towards Cassandra, who can almost certainly still hear them. 

“Yes,” Yennen says. “With the Briarwoods.” Allura watches carefully. Cassandra doesn’t react. 

He changes the topic then, discussing the new crop being brought in, the best crop they’ve had in years. They discuss the recovery of this city, Cassandra leading the way and occasionally throwing a comment in, down into the city center. 

There’s this underlying tension in Whitestone’s recovery. Many of the workers are refugees from places like Emon, and it is hard to ignore that Whitestone begins to flourish again just as the rest of Tal’dorei begins to fall. The two traumatized people help one another, but it is easy to pick the refugees out of the Whitestone natives. The fall of cities across the continent weighs heavily on all, but most heavily on those who watched it happen. That is the event they replay every time they close their eyes. For the Whitestone natives, it is different. They see the revolution, the overthrow, their new life. They’ve been saved in a way that shines on all of their faces. There is still this tenuous hope in those whose home is only improving.

They tour the city a bit, Keeper Yennen and Cassandra receiving reports from various townsfolk about various projects. They visit buildings destroyed either during the Briarwoods’ reign or the revolution, buildings being rebuilt in case Vox Machina returns with even more in need of a roof over their heads. They walk through construction sites, note supply distribution, and consider where to focus their efforts. It’s a true collaboration between Keeper Yennen and Cassandra, Allura notes. They listen and debate and there is a deep respect there. That doesn’t mean, however, that the two don’t clash occasionally.

“We should close the last three sites,” Cassandra says as they finish their tour, looking over notes she’s been taking in a small book. 

“What?” Yennen asks, turning towards her in surprise. “They were moving ahead on schedule.”

“The coming rain will soak into the ground and turn it all to mud. It will slow them down significantly and increase the likelihood of injuries. We won’t get much more done there, and they’re at a relatively stable point. We should seal them up and wait until the rains pass to continue there.” Cassandra closes her book and looks up at Keeper Yennen. His arms are crossed and he’s squared off against her. Allura steps off to the side to just observe. This isn’t a fight she can help with; she knows very little of non-magical building construction, after all.

“Then we should double down on our work there. Have the people work longer hours, get as much done as we can before the rains, so that we stay on schedule. We’ll need those buildings if your brother keeps bringing in refugees,” Yennen says, his voice strong and commanding. It’s interesting, Allura notes. Yennen’s tone might be commanding, but his actual words sound like suggestions. Cassandra’s tone, in contrast, is mild and almost conversational, but she’s giving orders more than anything else.

“The people are still recovering,” Cassandra says, crossing her arms to match Yennen’s stance. “If we push them too hard, injuries are guaranteed. The last thing we need is more injured people to look after. It’s better to have healthy people living in cramped quarters than to have injured people in spacious, half-finished homes.”

“Whitestone is strong,” Yennen says, not backing down at all. “We can handle it. We need to be able to take in as many people as possible, considering what is happening across the continent.”

“Up until a few months ago, Whitestone was starving. Whitestone is malnourished and needs _recovery_ , not to be worked to death.” Cassandra’s tone is still carefully controlled. “ _Especially_ considering what is happening across the continent.” Yennen’s jaw clenches. Cassandra forces her posture to relax slightly. “Percy says we may be fighting a war soon. We need to be as strong as possible, if that time comes.”

“Which is why we should push harder,” Yennen counters. “Hard work will make them stronger, build them up again. The people need something to _do_ , Cassandra, other than worry. They need to keep momentum, to keep moving forward.”

“The effects of exhaustion are worse, longer lasting, on malnourished people,” Cassandra says. “Rest is an important part of recovery. Bodies need a chance to heal, to reach a neutral state, before they can begin to build up strength again.”

“Spirits must be looked after as well. And I think you underestimate Whitestone. We were strong enough to fight the Briarwoods. We will be strong enough to fight dragons.” There is something running underneath those words, something that Allura doesn’t understand, but clearly Cassandra does. For the first time in the conversation, she looks down instead of at Yennen. Her hands, half hidden under her crossed arms, clutch at her clothing for a moment, gripping it strongly as though to ground herself.

Eyes still down, quiet but determined, Cassandra says, “And look how many died in that fight.”

Those word are like a physical blow to Yennen, and Allura is _missing_ something. There’s some other conversation these two are having, something they’re leaving her out of, and she doesn’t know what to do about it. 

With a voice like steel, Yennen replies, “And whose fault was that?”

Cassandra’s eyes slide shut and Allura just catches the dark look that flits across her face before she forces it into a more neutral expression. Her hands clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, before Cassandra takes a deep breath and forces herself to relax again. Her eyes open and she looks at Yennen again, looks at the barely concealed righteous anger on his face, and keeps her own face carefully neutral.

“We’ll close one of the sites,” she says, after a moment. “Divide the workforce of that one between the other two, increasing man power while keeping them at the same work hours. Once the rains start, we close up the sights immediately, before anyone gets injured.”

It’s a careful return to the conversation that, on the surface, they’d been having all along. It’s a step back into safer territory, a step away from – from _whatever_ conversation they’d been having and not having just a moment ago, and Allura _burns_ with curiosity. 

“Alright,” Yennen says, his arms falling to his side as he takes a step away from Cassandra. “Alright, we’ll proceed with that plan.” Cassandra nods once, sharply, her arms still crossed, not moving. “If we’re done, then, there are a few people I’d like to go visit. I’ll take my leave, then.” He turns to Allura at that last part and nods to her.

“Of course,” Allura says, smiling warmly. Yennen returns the smile and then strides off into the city. Allura catches a look of relief on his face as he leaves. Filing that away into her bank of questions, she turns to Cassandra. “Should we walk back towards the castle together?” she asks, trying to be gentle without sounding gentle.

Cassandra forces her arms down to her sides and shakes her head slightly to clear it. “I was planning to stay in town for a bit longer,” she says, carefully calm.

“Oh?” Allura’s never noticed Cassandra spending much of her time on her own in the actual city of Whitestone. She’s usually with Yennen or Percy or Ryndarien when she’s down in the city, working on official business. Perhaps she wasn’t allowed down here before, when the Briarwoods were in power, Allura muses. 

“I –,“ Allura swears Cassandra is _blushing_ , “I was – never mind, it’s a silly thing, I’m just going to remain in town for a little while.”

“What were you planning on doing?” Allura asks, stepping closer now. She’s never seen the carefully composed Cassandra flustered like this before. 

Cassandra doesn’t quite know why she’s telling Allura this. Maybe it’s because of the gift Percy left her, or the conversation she had with Kynan earlier, or maybe it’s just because of what just happened with Yennen. She’s feeling vulnerable, and it is perhaps not such a big deal to share this one little thing with Allura. To let someone know that she’s not as horribly callous as she may come off sometimes. “I was just – going to sit and watch the tree.”

“What?” Allura asks, confused. 

“I know – They obviously won’t be returning today, but I – I was just going to sit and watch the Sun Tree, for a little while.”

“Oh,” Allura says. She’s blinking suddenly, rapidly, trying to think of what to say. This moment, Cassandra turned away, clearly more than a little embarrassed by this admission, the sun starting to set, the unanswered questions about everything that just happened still hanging in the air, this moment feels oddly delicate. It feels fragile, as though saying the wrong thing could break something here. “Would you mind if I – if I joined you?”

She doesn’t know if that was the right thing to say or not, but it’s clearly not what Cassandra was expecting. Her face turns up towards Allura in surprise. Cassandra’s gaze flits over Allura’s face, trying to read it, looking for _something_ , another thing Allura doesn’t understand. She tries to keep her face open, tries to show Cassandra she has no ill intent, tries to match that small moment of almost trust that Cassandra just gave her. Maybe Cassandra finds what she’s looking for, or maybe she doesn’t, but either way, she gives a one shouldered shrug, eventually, and begins leading the way to the Sun Tree. Allura follows after.

They don’t’ talk much. They find some overturned crates in the square and each sit on one, their attention focused on the Tree. Allura knows they won’t return today. She knows that Keyleth won’t be able to cast such a powerful spell after the fight with Vorugal. If she still has that ability, they haven’t fought hard enough, Allura thinks. She knows that returning today would be a sign that something had gone horribly wrong. 

Still, in the dying light of this day, the last rays of sun giving the tree the halo it gets every sunrise and sunset, still somehow in a careful, delicate moment with the young woman seated next to her, Allura finds herself hoping. Hoping that perhaps things will have gone well. Hoping that maybe Kima will return to her today, that maybe this night will not be plagued with worry. She knows that Kima has always returned to her. She knows that the one time she almost didn’t, it was Vox Machina that brought her back. But, still, still she worries. Still she hopes. 

And it is perhaps comforting to know that Cassandra sits next to her, hoping as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more like a group of interconnected one shots than a chapter fic, but I'm not gonna make a new fic every time I wanna write about Cassandra and Allura, that's ridiculous.

**Author's Note:**

> Second work in my series about the people left behind in Whitestone. I feel bad for Cassandra. Like seriously. Like more than I realized prior to writing this stuff. Cassandra's had a hard life.


End file.
